


I Once Was a Spy

by tadyr_2375



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers, Starkid, TCB - Fandom, Tin Can Bros
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, One Shot, Torture Tango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadyr_2375/pseuds/tadyr_2375
Summary: The Deadliest Man Alive reveals his identity to Curt, planning to take back those four years of anguish.
Relationships: Agent Curt Mega & Tatiana Slozhno, Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	I Once Was a Spy

"I finally have you," Owen growled, pacing the hotel room. The tip of his blade shredded the carpets and the floor, leaving deep white gouges in the finished wood. "So why won't you **_stay?"_**   
Curt flinched as Owen's voice rattled through his head. There was no way Owen was here, Owen was dead. Owen died four years ago. But even though he saw his former lover in almost every face he passed, it had never been this clearly.  
"You don't get it, old boy," Curt shouted back, but his voice was shaky and empty, weak from the hours of torture. Owen turned, seething.  
"No Curt," he spat. "You're the one who doesn't get it. All those years, all those- did they mean nothing to you? Did _I_ mean nothing to you?  
"You left me for dead, Curt. Anything we had, it was gone the night you betrayed me, the night you allowed me to fall into THEIR hands."  
Curt tilted his head up, splitting pain going through his skull like a hot knife. Owen had stopped pacing. He stared at the wall, in the empty space between two beautiful but bland paintings. Mountains or some shit.  
Owen's hands were trembling with fury as he fidgeted with his gun. Faint footsteps rattled the ground outside, but neither man moved.  
"You have no idea what it's like," Curt said, trying to reach out with his bound hands. "Living for four years- nay, not living, dying for four years, knowi-"  
Owen turned around and bashed the gun into Curt's skull. He gasped as warm blood dripped gently from his forehead, down his already blood-streaked face.  
"I have no idea?" Owen's voice was soft, but power surged behind his every syllable. Curt closed his eyes, trying to breathe, like his mother had told him after he came home from the failed mission four years ago.  
"I have no idea what it's like, to be dying for four years? Kept on the edge of life, in the chasm between the worlds of the living and dead? To spend my every night sleeping on the hard stone floor of a cell, to spend every day enduring torture far worse than anything you've been put through, waiting for my partner to come and save me? Realizing with every passing night that he never will? But I suppose, Mega, you never did have any consideration for how your actions may affect others."  
Curt peered up at Owen through nearly closed eyes. Owen was picking up his machete without bothering to wipe blood off of the blade.  
"Why are you doing this?" Curt's voice was hollow, absent of all the arrogant bravado that had gotten him here, gotten Owen here.  
"You abandoned me," Owen said, his voice little more than a whisper. He circled Curt like a vulture would roadkill, his arm brushing against Curt’s broken collarbone and shoulder blades. Blood from his shirt seeped into Owen's tan vest. "I want to keep you alive Mega," he whispered, his voice right beside Curt's ear. His warm breath sent a chill down Curt's spine.  
"I want you to feel every moment of pain I endured as a result of your shortcomings. You didn't care enough for me to go back- and now there's nobody who cares enough to come and save you. You pushed them away, Mega."  
Cold metal pressed against Curt's neck, rivulets of blood trickling from the silver edge. Curt tilted his head up, trying to catch a glimpse of his tormentor. He instead stared at the ceiling, praying to a god he had long since ceased believing in as Owen stuffed a rag into Curt's mouth.  
"It's what you do best."  
Owen's whisper tickled the coarse hair on the back of Curt's neck. Curt shuddered as Owen pressed the blade harder. A searing pain, white-hot, tore through him and he screamed, choking on the cloth gagging him. He jerked forward, thrashing and twitching as blood poured down his front, soaking into his suit and his pants, pooling on the floor below him. Shouted curses echoed off the empty walls. Owen was running.  


Tatiana burst through the hotel room door, her gun drawn. She screamed a threat at her captor, realizing only moments later that she had been too late. The Deadliest Man was gone. In the center of the room was Agent Mega, bound to the chair with his throat slit and blood pouring onto the polished floor. A dark haired man she had never met cradled his body, shaking and swearing. A first aid kit lay broken open on the floor beside him, blood-soaked bandages and gauze plastered haphazardly to the wound. The man cried. Agent Mega was still.


End file.
